


Build Me Up, Shake Me Down

by bohemeyourself



Category: Bandom
Genre: M/M, mild drug use, pillow fort
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-08-18
Updated: 2011-08-18
Packaged: 2017-10-22 19:12:15
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,269
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/241557
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bohemeyourself/pseuds/bohemeyourself
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In which Brendon is an overexcited hummingbird, and then a cuddly octopus. Because nothing adult ever happens in a pillow fort, and then it does.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Build Me Up, Shake Me Down

**Author's Note:**

> The original 600 word ficlet was written for hermette, who was having an off day. Then it grew into this.
> 
> For your knowledge: Weed chocolate [exists](http://www.kivaconfections.com). In J.D. Salinger's _Catcher in the Rye_ , Holden Caufield's red hunting hat is a sheild, or security device. More information [here](http://youtu.be/kqfThmVIIAc).

Spencer’s whiteboard was originally purchased with the intention of keeping track of important adult things, like grocery lists and remembering to pay the phone bill on time. But now, it’s covered in song lyrics and doodles (usually from Brendon, and usually penises, because they spent the ages of 16 to 18 becoming the best rock band of all time, and are now making up for lost time at 23.) Spencer’s standing in front of it with a damp paper towel, removing the aforementioned penises and song lyrics when a mass of pillows and blankets busts through the door like a tornado of cotton. Spencer knows there’s a body in there somewhere, judging by the sounds coming out of it.

“Brendon, what are you doing?” Spencer raises an eyebrow as the mass of fluffy stuff falls away and leaves one Brendon Urie, flushed pink with exertion and smiling like an idiot. 

“Let’s make a pillow fort.” Brendon says excitedly.

“Now? In here?” 

Brendon nods. “Uh-huh!”

“Why?”

“Your bed was voted best pillow fort bed long ago, remember?” Brendon wastes no time waiting for Spencer’s approval, just jumps up on the mattress and starts throwing soft stuff around. “Ooh! Spence! Will you go get the christmas lights out of the garage?” 

Spencer doesn’t argue, just goes. It’s one of those days, when Brendon’s in that overcaffeinated hummingbird mood. You shouldn’t bother arguing with him on days like these. It’s best to just find something to hold onto and ride it out. 

When Spencer gets back with the lights, the room is an absolute mess. There’s stuff everywhere, and somehow the kitchen broom got involved (which is probably his own fault, because he used to use his mother’s when the dining room chairs got to be too short) and Brendon is obviously failing really hard. 

“Brendon, what the hell?” 

Brendon’s head pops out from under a quilt “What?”

“Who taught you how to build a fort? You suck at this.” Spencer reaches down to untangle him from the mess. 

“Uhm, you?” 

Spencer rolls his eyes. “Rhetorical question.” Not like it was true or anything. “Untangle the lights for me, will you?” 

Spencer gets everything pinned up, hangs the lights and stuffs the thing with pillows. It’s small, because it’s quite difficult to build a fort big enough for two grown men (even if one of them is as small as Brendon), and it’ll probably get way too hot, but they curl up with popcorn and Spencer’s laptop. They don’t smoke, because it’s only ten in the morning, but they watch Disney and cartoons (as you do, nothing adult ever happens in a pillow fort. It’s against the rules.) and Spencer pushes all the important adult things he was thinking about to the back of his mind and just enjoys it all. 

It takes Brendon half of The Little Mermaid for him to settle, squirming and fidgety until Spencer wraps an arm around him and pulls him in. Brendon relaxes immediately, wrapping around Spencer like an octopus. 

Spencer’s used to this by now, used to Brendon being close, since he’s never really had any sort of concept of personal space. They’ve gotten comfortable with it, spending too much time living on top of one another on tour. But it’s never made Spencer’s heart do this before, this little clench-flip thing when he thinks about Brendon and all the eighty-six thousand things he could be doing at the moment, but instead choosing to spend his day in a pillow fort with Spencer. 

At the end of the movie, Brendon’s so still, with his head resting on Spencer’s chest, curled next to him that Spencer thinks he might have fallen asleep. Spencer presses a kiss into Brendon’s hair, and because he thinks it’s safe, murmurs “Best friend, ever, Bren” 

Brendon tightens his arms around Spencer and mumbles back “Love you too, Spence.”

+++

The fort stays up (not because it’s comfortable to sleep in or anything, it’s just that Spencer can’t be bothered to go through the whole ordeal of taking it down.) and about three days later, Spencer is sitting in it, paying bills and emailing his mother when Brendon sticks his head in.

“What are you doing?” Brendon says, perched on the edge of the mattress at Spencer’s feet. 

“Bills, emailing my mom.” 

Brendon tuts. “You’re not allowed to do adult stuff in the fort, it’s against the rules.” He says around a mouthful of something. 

“What are you eating?” 

“Chocolate, Want some?” Brendon offers, climbing fully inside the fort.

“Thanks,” Spencer opens his mouth for a piece, not removing his hands from the keyboard, and Brendon stuffs a square into his mouth. It’s pretty decent chocolate, sweet and smooth and oh. Oh. 

“Oh,” Spencer says. “Dammit, Brendon.” he swallows the chocolate down, fixing Brendon with a glare. “I had stuff to do today.”

Brendon’s evil smirk breaks through, belying his innocence. “Gotcha,”

“How many squares have you had already?” 

Brendon shakes his head. “Just the one,” he says, pointing at his own mouth. 

“Fine,” Spencer sighs. “Since we have a while before it kicks in, go pick up some sandwiches while I shower.”

“Awesome,” Brendon kisses him on the cheek and bounces away. Spencer rubs his cheek and climbs out to take a shower. 

“Worst friend, ever.”

+++

“Sandwiches!” Brendon calls from downstairs. Spencer is stuck in the fort, so he calls Brendon’s cell phone. 

“You’re going to have to come up here. I can’t move.” Spencer says into his phone, trying very hard not to slur his words. Brendon laughs down the line.

“That bad, eh?”

“Dude, what did you buy? This stuff is like, three times stronger than the last bar you bought.”

“That’s because it is.” Brendon answers. Spencer curses the day Ian suggested Brendon get his medical card. 

“You’re the worst. Bring water. This totally breaks the ‘no adult stuff in the fort’ rule, just so we’re clear.” 

“No it doesn’t.”

Spencer sighs. They are not having this argument right now. “Just come here, I’m hungry.”

+++

“I have to pee.” Brendon says. They’re watching Planet Earth, because they can’t handle anything else right now. David Attenburough’s voice is the best thing to listen to, ever, in Spencer’s opinion.

“So go,” Spencer says. 

“I can’t move.” Brendon whines. 

Spencer has to think really hard about getting up. “C’mon, we’ll go together. Count of three.” They manage to get up and out of the fort’s cushiony goodness and Brendon takes off down the hall. Spencer gathers up all the empty plates and cups and returns them to the kitchen. 

Spencer gets back first, so he lays down and clicks back to the main menu on the dvd. He’s just about to choose another segment when Brendon crawls in and takes the laptop from him, pushing it into the corner and taking it’s place. “Brendon,” 

“Shh, no talking,” 

Spencer opens his mouth to ask if that’s another rule when Brendon bends, closing the space between them and licking into his mouth. It’s nothing like the usual kisses they share when they’re stoned and feeling friendly. It’s not slow or gentle. Brendon gives no quarter this time, kissing Spencer like he’s got a score to settle, something to prove. 

“The other day,” Brendon kisses down Spencer’s neck, breath hot and wet against his skin. “I meant it, Spence.”

“What?” Brendon’s lips vibrate against his adam’s apple when he speaks. 

“Just, fuck, Spence.” Brendon rolls his hips down and kisses him again, long and deep, and Spencer forgets what he was thinking about. 

Brendon gets his hand into Spencer’s pants, warm and sure, and Spencer can’t do anything but hang onto Brendon’s hips and pant. Brendon’s not the most fantastic handjob he’s ever recieved, but it’s been a while and Brendon knows what he likes. He should probably reciprocate.

Spencer gets uncooperative hands to unbutton Brendon’s jeans and into his underwear. Brendon’s dick is hot, wet from where he’s leaking at the tip. The weight of him feels good in Spencer’s hand. 

“Spence,” Brendon groans, and slows down his hand to match Spencer’s pace, panting. Spencer reaches up and pulls him in for another kiss. They’re jerking each other off in tandem, in a freaking pillow fort, and all Spencer can think is    
  
_finally, finally. This feels like something._   


Spencer comes just a moment before Brendon does, spilling over their fingers and onto Spencer’s stomach. Brendon collapses forward, sweat from his forehead soaking through Spencer’s shirt. 

Eventually, sated and perfect turns into hotstickygross, and Spencer pokes at Brendon. “Up, bathroom,” 

When Spencer is done in the bathroom, Brendon is stretched out on his own bed, spread out like a starfish. He’s asleep, mouth open and drooling, so Spencer leaves him be and goes back to his room. He digs his laptop out of the fort and very deliberately sits at his desk and doesn’t think about what Brendon meant. 

He flicks through his emails until he can’t not think about it anymore. He spins in the chair, facing the fort. It smells like Brendon in there. That should be weird, but Spencer’s not supposed to be thinking about that. 

The thing is, they’ve been saying “I love you” like it’s nothing for years. And meaning it, in that “you’re my best friend to the day I die” type way. They all did. But the prospect of Brendon saying “I love you” and actually meaning “I love you, Spencer Smith” is something fresh and raw and exciting. 

Spencer has to do something. He pushes out of the chair and is down the hallway before he can give it a second thought. Brendon’s still in bed, but he looks like he’s stirring, little twitches of movement, like he’s too comfortable to actually do anything. 

Spencer climbs in behind Brendon and presses his face into his shoulder, trying to tamp down his nerves.

“Bren, when you were talking about what you said the other day, what did you mean by ‘I meant it’?”

Brendon turns to face him, rubbing sleep out of one eye. “I meant,” he says, voice small and rough. He clears his throat. “I meant that I love you, Spence.”

“For real?”

Brendon nods. “For real.” 

Spencer smiles and hugs Brendon closer. “I love you, too.” They lay there for a moment, and Spencer notices a severe lack of something on the bed. “Have you been sleeping without any blankets or pillows?”

“They’re all in your room.”

Spencer snorts. “You’re an idiot.” He sighs, letting his head fall onto Brendon’s shoulder. “This is also the most anti-climactic thing we’ve ever done.” 

“What do you mean?”

“Well, on Tuesday we made a fort, and you tried to tell me you loved me. And it’s now Friday and I just got around to dealing with that fact. And you’ve been sleeping without pillows or a comforter all week and that’s what we’re talking about, instead of, you know.”

“The part where we should be talking about how we should be getting together, and instead we’re talking about a pillow fort. You fail, Spencer.” 

“Shut up.” Spencer groans, turning his head to hide his face in Brendon’s tshirt. Brendon turns, pokes and prods him until they’re lying facing one another, like parenthesis on Brendon’s naked bed. “So, we’re doing this, then.” Spencer can’t decide if it’s a question or not.

“By this you mean actually talking about our feelings instead of dancing around each other?”

“Yeah, that.” 

“I’ll go first, since you suck so much.” Brendon says. “I love you, and I want to be with you, be your boyfriend or whatever you want to call me.” Brendon reaches out and tangles their fingers together. 

“How long?”

Brendon looks slightly peeved for a second, but something in Spencer’s face must change his mind, because he says “A long time, Spence. Just, don’t ask how long, just know it’s been very long.”

That makes him feel better. “I love you, too. I want that, too. Boyfriends, or, partners, or whatever. All of it.” He tugs until Brendon comes over and kisses him. They make out until their smiles are too big for them to kiss properly. 

“So, boyfriend, what now?” Brendon asks.

“Well, first we make your bed. Then dinner.”

“Do we have to? I mean, shouldn’t we be sleeping together? Since we’re boyfriends now? We don’t ever have to use my bed again. We can just sleep in the fort.”

“We can’t both sleep in the fort. We’ll suffocate, or die of heat exhaustion or something. The fort is coming down.” Spencer says, with finality. Brendon pouts. “Is the fort some simile for Holden’s red hunting hat? Should I start calling you Linus?”

Brendon’s pout breaks, and he laughs. “You and your literature. No, I just like it. Pillow forts make me feel safe. Maybe it’s because it’s you that makes them, and you make me feel safe.”

Spencer cocks an eyebrow. “That’s a pretty big self-analysis there, Holden.”

Brendon bats at him. “You’re the one who kept it up all week.”

“Shut up, we spent a lot of time and effort making it.”

“You’re just lazy,”

“That too.” He squeezes Brendon’s fingers, still clasped in his, and smiles. They probably look like loons, sprawled across Brendon’s bed, smiling at each other like idiots, and his cheeks hurt, but Spencer doesn’t want to stop. 

The spell’s finally broken by Brendon’s stomach growling, loud enough for Spencer to hear. “C’mon, up.” He says. They have all the time in the world, now, stretched before them like a path. To greatness, or something. Or maybe, just maybe, they’re already there.


End file.
